


Soft

by Halja



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Self-Doubt, Spitefic, Switching, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18704998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halja/pseuds/Halja
Summary: Hades worries entirely too much. Persephone might be soft and pretty, but she's not made of glass.





	Soft

 

 

 

 

Persephone is soft. Soft from her loose curls of earth-brown hair to her sun-kissed arms and legs; from her pink, dimpled cheeks to the ripe swell of her breast. Soft thighs to part to reveal glistening heat within, soft hips and belly to press fingers into, soft laughter from plush lips and a soft gaze in eyes as green as new grass.

Hades is all harsh lines, sharp angles, jagged iron and chilled marble. He touches her with hands long and bony, like pale spiders in the dark of their chambers. He holds her too tight to the hard muscle and ice-cold skin of his chest, pressing her softness against him, squeezing, trapping her within the circle of arms more used to bearing the weight of sword and shield and the fate of mortal men. He kisses her hungrily, leaving her mouth red and swollen like a rose, like a pomegranate. His most heated caresses mark her pliant flesh with bruises. He wants to be kind to her, and he tries, really he does – but then she looks at him, the way only she knows how, and he loses control. Again.

He tries to make it up to her with flowers and fruit, with fine cloth, with milk and honey and wine and perfume, with white bread and tender meat. All that is rich and smooth and sweet and warm, all the softness he can find to give her.

Today, he weaves asphodel into her hair, presses the pale petals to her red, red mouth and that bite-mark on her throat that hasn’t quite faded yet. She laughs like the tinkle of golden bells, and kisses each of his fingers. Leans up to kiss his face, and kisses not only his lips but also his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his brow.

«I’m sorry,» he says without meaning to, when she pulls back to look at him again. Persephone frowns in confusion, then deeper, in understanding. Then, she surges up from under him like a gust of wind, flipping him on his back so that this time, he’s the one trapped in the warm cage of her golden arms, spread out under a false Sun in the still quiet of the Meadows.

«Don’t be,» she says, full lips quirked in a half-smile and green eyes bright.

Then, she kisses him with a hunger to match and rival his own, and shows him that _soft_ isn’t always _frail,_ and why he shouldn’t be so afraid of hurting her after all. Shows him that she’s Persephone, Demeter’s daughter, with power in her hands and strength in her arms and back and legs. She’s Persephone, Hades’ wife and queen, and maybe she did not choose him that first day, but she’s chosen him ever since. And she’s not the type to make such a choice lightly.

Later, as Hades gasps and pants, lips throbbing and skin flushed and tingling, he feels rather silly. That’s a new feeling, but then again, she’s always bringing some novelty into his life.

«I could do that again, sometimes,» Persephone offers, watching him closely. «If you don’t stop doing what you usually do.»

Hades is more than ready to agree.

 

 

 

 


End file.
